


Captains of Quidditch, V2.0

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: Captains of Quidditch, V2.0 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Slash, Some Humor, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry stumbles upon something he probably shouldn’t be privy to…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captains of Quidditch, V2.0

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Captains of Quidditch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/232495) by [krysnel_nicavis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis). 



> I am actually unsure of when exactly I first originally wrote this. I would hazard a guess that it was actually sometime in 2002/2003 as the age 16/17 was when I wrote my first sex scene which bordered on explicit. In an effort to get the inspiration to continue Part 4 (which I started writing about 11 years ago), I have decided to give the whole series a complete overhall. 
> 
> An edited version of this can be found on Fanfiction.net and is referred to as V2.1.

 

By the time Harry was finally released from his detention with Professor Lockhart, it was after midnight.  He sighed and massaged his aching hand.  He’d been addressing envelopes for hours.  _By hand._   He may only be twelve years old but even Harry realized that there just _had_ to be an easier way to reply to fan mail.  Harry scoffed.  His mind drifted back to the end of the previous school year.  Hermione had been right.  Some of the best witches and wizards were without even an ounce of logic.

Harry continued on his way from the Defence corridor to Gryffindor Tower, grumbling to himself the whole way about pompous fops and their unusual forms of torture.  All the while he was trying to ease the persistent ache in his writing muscles and wondering if the dents from holding the quill would ever go away.  He was detoured through the Ancient Runes corridor by an errant staircase.  Perfect.

Now that he was alone, he let his mind wander to the mysterious voice he’d been hearing around the castle lately.  It was rather sinister, always speaking of tearing and ripping… and really not the best thing to be thinking about while walking alone through the castle… in the dark.  He suddenly became aware of just how dark the shadows actually were…  He shook his head.  He was being silly.

A sudden thud made him physically jump.  But, luckily, he managed to avoid the pre-pubescent squeal of terror.

He quickly glanced around and, in the dim light of the waning moon shining through the windows located at one end of the corridor, couldn’t make anything out.  A scraping sound drew his attention to one of the many classrooms that were only used by students to practice their casting.  He should just ignore it.  Ignore it and be on his way.  It was late and he really didn’t wish to be caught out of the Tower after hours again.  That time last year had been enough.  Yes, he should simply move along and-

That sounded like a person.  Or rather, a person giving a startled gasp.

Harry looked down one end of the corridor, then looked down the other, then returned to staring at the door he’d been drawn to.  It was open a few inches.  There was no sign on anyone about to come along and discover him and he wouldn’t even need to open the door to investigate the room a little…  This was a bad idea.

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry creeped forward.  A low moan from the room almost had him jumping out of his skin… or possibly bursting into the room to see what was wrong.  As it was he froze, hardly daring to breath and trying to calm his racing heart.  After a beat he moved forward and was able to peer into the room that was supposed to be empty – especially at this time of night.

His eyes widened comically – at least one would have thought so if they had been present to witness the expression.  Inside the room was none other than Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and exceptional keeper, Oliver Wood and his arch rival Slytherin Quidditch Captain, and all around sports villain slash chaser, Marcus Bloody-Cheater Flint.  While the two attacking each other wouldn’t have been considered odd under any circumstance, the manner in which Harry had discovered them attacking each other was… unexpected to say the very least.

As was their current state of undress.

Discarded were their long black school robes, tossed aside without care or thought.  Along with their knit uniform sweaters, at least one pair of shoes, Flint’s dress shirt, and Oliver’s necktie and dress slacks.  Oliver was seated on an old teacher’s desk, reclined back and balanced on his elbows.  With Flint positioned in front of him, rough hands travelling up the Gryffindor boy’s smooth legs as said legs wrapped around his waist.

Harry felt his cheeks heat up rather drastically as his face turned red up to his hairline.  He was suddenly sure Oliver’s underpants were included among the articles of clothing that were embarrassingly scattered about the room.  Why was he suddenly sure?  He could hazard a guess based on the realization that not only were Flint’s belt and slacks undone and down somewhere around his knees, his own underpants were as well… and a certain part of the older boy’s lower anatomy was currently in a position that Harry had only begun to become familiar with himself nearly every morning starting around the end of last summer.  It was why he’d taken to sleeping with the curtains of his dorm bed drawn shut.

When both of the supposed sworn enemies leaned forward and attached themselves rather securely together at the mouths… Harry’s mind stuttered before grinding to a halt.  It seemed to take his sight along with it.  The ringing in his ears was a bit worrisome.  Suddenly all notions of inter-house rivalry were being turned on their heads.

 _“Oh, bloody hell,”_ gasped Oliver’s voice.  Harry’s sight suddenly returned and the ringing disappeared.  His mind was still lagging a bit as he took in the unfolding scene before him.  His body felt like it was stuck in a body-bind and his eyes were refusing to even blink.

Flint’s head was now between Oliver’s thighs and he appeared to be sucking on… _‘Dear Merlin! How is he not gagging!?’_   Oliver was sprawled out on his back, sweat beginning to make his skin (the parts not covered by his open dress shirt) glow in the moonlight, hands grasping at the edges of the desk, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and lungs gasping for air.  A slurping noise brought his attention back to the Slytherin boy.  Harry dimly acknowledged one of the boy’s hands doing something he couldn’t quite see.  It continued doing whatever it was even when the boy stopped… with his mouth… on the Gryffindor boy’s… _‘Let’s face it, you may as well just go ahead and call it an erection at this point,’_ the amazingly grounded and larger part of Harry’s mind stated.  It was separate but directly next to the smaller, disbelieving part of his mind and watched the scene with an intense curiosity.  On the whole, Harry’s mind was still rather lagging in lingering confusion.  Whatever Flint was doing, Oliver was obviously enjoying it.

He stopped whatever it was and Oliver groaned in displeasure.  Marcus ( _‘May as well call a guy by his first name when you’ve seen everything he was born with.’_ ) chuckled in response as he reached for a jar that was sitting on the edge of the desk.  He used his glistening fingers to spread whatever was in the jar on his own erection before closing the jar and tossing it carelessly to the side.  Harry’s gaze followed the jar as it clattered on the floor and rolled all the way to the door where he stood silently still, all the while curious as to why Marcus’ fingers had been glistening to begin with.  His heart jumped up into his throat as his eyes quickly snapped back to the two older boys to see if they’d noticed his presence.

They hadn’t.

Harry’s wide eyes watched in fascination as Marcus lined up his erection with what could only be Oliver’s… _‘Isn’t that going to hurt!?’_   Apparently it didn’t really, if Oliver’s long, low moan was anything to judge by.  Marcus’ grunting groan proved it didn’t hurt him either.  Whatever Marcus did earlier must’ve helped.  He had Oliver’s legs pressed against his shoulders, the Gryffindor nearly bent in half, as he moved against the body below him.

Oliver didn’t seem to care that his knees were hitting his chest as he grasped onto Marcus as well as he could.  His nails left red marks on the Slytherin’s sweat slicked shoulders and biceps as Oliver scrambled for purchase.  Their pants, and gasps, and moans were periodically silenced (or at lease dampened) by rather feverous and frantic kisses.  The desk beneath them scraped a bit on the stone floor as their movements became more vigorous.

Harry gulped and noticed his palms were sweaty.  Actually, he was a little sweaty everywhere…  And his little morning problem was currently making itself known.  He bit down on his lip.

Oliver gave a particularly loud, stuttering groan, which was quieted by another consuming kiss, and arched his back before going boneless.  His… _emissions_ splattered on both boy’s chests.  Marcus gave a few more harsh thrusts before tensing up.  His moan muffled as he bit down on Oliver’s shoulder.

Neither boy moved from their positions.  Both panting, breath shaking.

Then Marcus lifted his head and looked into Oliver’s eyes with an emotion Harry had seen only a few times before on different people and didn’t quite understand.  It was intense and meaningful and raw.  And a small part of Harry was envious of it but he couldn’t figure out why.  Marcus leaned forward and captured Oliver’s lips in a kiss, this one gentle and tender and seeming to convey the same level of emotion as the odd look, and Oliver wrapped his arms around the dark haired boy.

Harry swallowed and suddenly found himself able to move.  He cast his gaze down.  Somehow more embarrassed of witnessing this moment than their earlier activities.  His eyes fell on the discarded jar near his feet.  It was small and just inside the door and he was curious again.  He glanced back at the two older boys but they were still too wrapped up in each other to notice anything going on around them.  On impulse Harry crouched down and snatched the jar.  He spared one last glance at the two before disappearing into the shadows as quickly and silently as his shaking legs could allow.

When he finally reached the light of Gryffindor Tower’s fireplace and was faced with his friends, he decided to omit what he’d witnessed in that not-so-empty classroom.  Instead he focused on his earlier detention.  He was also ignoring the mystery jar that was figuratively trying to burn a hole in his pocket.

 

\- 30 -

End Captains of Quidditch V2.0

**Author's Note:**

> Huh… there was actually a lot more humour in this than I’d expected. That makes me happy.


End file.
